Enemies with Benefits
by lrritable-vowel-types
Summary: It was loathe at first sight for Mamoru and Usagi. But when they are forced together as adults who still can't stand one another, they discover that their passion for fighting can spark a different kind of passion altogether.
1. Chapter 1

Hi hello. Yes, it is me. Yes, I changed my name a bit. No, I did not expect to not post anything for almost a year. Sorry?! Anyway! Here is my newest story. It will feature a sex scene in every chapter (possibly minus one or two) so if that's not your thing, you probably want to skip this one. For those of you who _do_ like lemons, please enjoy!

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Mamoru Chiba considered himself a reasonable person. He was, after all, a well-respected virologist, an active member of several reputable medical organizations, and on the board of one of the most influential children's medical charities in Japan. He was someone who, above all, took pride in his ability to look at situations rationally.

Analytically.

Calmly.

He was chairman of his condo building management association, for fuck's sake!

So why was it that just being in the presence of his old nemesis was all it took to override all of that and set a completely irrational flame of loathing alight in his gut?

"Usagi," Reika was saying as she opened Mamoru's front door to let her in, "I was worried you weren't going to make it!"

Ten years. That's how long it had been since Usagi Tsukino had come crashing into his life, assaulting him with shoes and wads of paper and food and her taunting insults. Something about her flipped a switch in him, turning him from his normally rational adult self into a petty, angry child.

But the years had passed and with it came a change to the old routine and a parting of ways. It had been four blissful years since he'd last seen her—at Motoki and Reika's wedding, fittingly enough. Her date had gotten spectacularly wasted at the reception and, as best man, it fell to Mamoru to try to deal with the situation as best he could at Reika's parents' request. He'd tried not to make a scene, but Usagi wasn't having it. They wound up toe to toe in a spectacular shouting match in the middle of the dance floor—her friend Minako cackling from the sidelines as Usagi's date ran off to vomit in some dark corner—making an even bigger scene than the one he was trying to prevent.

Damn Reika . . . if he had known it was _Usagi_ they were waiting for . . . _Ugh_. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. That explained why Reika had been so coy about telling him who was coming over as they waited, and waited, and waited . . .

"Reika, I'm _soooooo_ sorry the party ran so late!"

She had been blowing them off for a _party_? Of course. Still as immature as ever—as if he had any doubt.

The women were thankfully still hidden in his entryway, giving him time to school his features. Just the sound of her shrill, infantile voice was enough to set him on edge.

He could hear them chattering, getting closer to the living room where he _had_ been enjoying his second glass of wine. Now he'd need it just to suffer through the rest of the meeting.

He stood as Reika reappeared, Usagi trailing behind her.

"You remember Usagi . . . right, Mamoru?" Reika asked, the smile on her face a little too forced. She moved, allowing Usagi to step from behind her.

To his surprise, she was looking rather attractive in a professional-looking dress, her super-long, ever-enticing hair woven into a sleek braid, which she had pulled to the front and trailed down her left side all the way past her hip.

Wait. _Enticing_?

Shit.

He shook himself mentally.

Freakish, more like.

Repulsive.

No. Nothing about Usagi should ever be described as _enticing_, especially not the silky, shiny hair of hers that had featured in more than one incredibly confusing X-rated dream in his college years . . .

"Mamoru," the object of his ire said with a polite incline of her head. "It's nice to see you again."

His eyes narrowed a fraction. "Likewise," he said, throwing her lie back at her.

Reika clasped her hands, the overly bright smile still in full force. "Well? Shall we sit and chat?"

Mamoru nodded, resuming his seat in his favorite chair while the women took the sofa. He picked up his wine glass, pointedly avoiding looking at Usagi while he took a large gulp of wine.

"Would you like some cabernet, Usagi?" Reika asked, pointing to the bottle of wine and empty wine glass on the coffee table. "I would be drinking, but y'know . . ."

"You have a baby at home, right," Usagi supplied. "Sure, why not?"

Mamoru couldn't help watching as she gave herself an extremely generous pour—draining nearly half the bottle into her glass and filling it to the brim.

"Oops, haha . . . um, cheers," she giggled, bending over the table to sip from the top of the full glass rather than risk picking it up. She managed to suck up an impressive amount of wine before plopping back on the couch beside Reika, wine glass in hand.

"So!" Reika said, clapping her hands. "Motoki's surprise birthday party."

"Yes!" Usagi cheered, bouncing a little in her seat. Mamoru shut his eyes and took a calming breath, praying that she didn't spill wine all over his Italian leather upholstery.

"First," Reika began, "I'm _so_ grateful that both of you have agreed to plan this event together."

Mamoru suppressed a snort. It had been easy enough to agree to before he knew it was _Usagi_ who was involved.

Reika continued, "As you both know, we have just under two months to plan a huge blowout party at Crown."

"Motoki's big 3-0!" Usagi giggled. "It's going to be awesome, Reika!"

Reika smiled indulgently at Usagi. "Usagi, you are my party girl extraordinaire."

Usagi wiggled happily in her seat.

"And Mamoru," Reika said, turning to him, "I can't thank you enough for offering to cover the expenses."

Mamoru nodded in acknowledgment. "What are best friends for?"

"With you two working together, I just know this is going to be an unforgettable party."

"I'm sure it will be _amazing_, Reika," Usagi said, pulling a notebook decorated with pink hearts and gray kittens from her oversized purse. "I already have so many ideas!"

As she opened the notebook, Reika's phone began to buzz.

"Shoot . . ." she said, checking her phone, "it's Unazuki again—she agreed to watch Hikari while I was here, but I promised her I'd only be an hour and . . ."

Usagi's face fell. "I was an hour late . . . I'm _soooo_ sorry!"

"I'm not really sure when I'll be able to slip away again . . ." Reika frowned, biting her bottom lip.

Mamoru sighed inwardly, then finished the rest of his wine in one big gulp. It burned a little going down . . . fucking tannins. He set the glass down, then rose from his seat. "It's no problem, Reika. I'm sure Usagi and I can manage on our own."

Reika looked at him doubtfully. "Just the two of you? Like, alone?"

"We are adults, Reika. We can find a way to work together."

"Really?" Reika said, the concern in her voice laced with hope. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem, Reika!" Usagi jumped in. "We've totally got this."

After more reassurances and promises to keep her in the loop and not maim or kill each other, Reika was off, disappearing out the door with a wave.

Mamoru stared at the closed door for several seconds, keeping his face carefully blank as he turned back to Usagi. So far the evening had been a ceasefire, but now that their white flag had left, he had no idea what to expect.

She stood in his living room, holding her glass of wine while she glanced around at his minimalist decor. In her little outfit, her hair and makeup done, he could acknowledge that some men, though certainly not ones named Mamoru Chiba, might find her attractive. He wondered fleetingly if she'd made an effort to look nice, knowing that she was meeting him. If he didn't already know that venom lurked beneath her surface he'd almost describe the pout of her lips and way her hips swayed as she surveyed the room as . . . alluring.

Almost.

"So . . . this is where you live, huh?"

Mamoru remained silent as he stepped into the living room.

"It's kinda . . . I don't know. Clinical." She scrunched her nose. "Cold." She turned to look him in the eye, swirling the wine in her glass. "Like you, I suppose."

And with that, the ceasefire had ended.

"And where do you live?" he asked. "A McDonald's PlayPlace?"

"That sounds awesome, but no. I share a very cute apartment with Minako. Not like . . . this monochrome bachelor pad for sad old men," she said as she waved her free hand dismissively at his cream-and-black living room.

He scowled.

"Has a woman even been in here before? Or"—she paused, dramatically bringing her hand to her mouth in a fake gasp—"are Reika and I the first?"

Mamoru briefly tried to remember the last time a woman had spent any time in his home . . . Damn, it had been a while. Cheeks pink, he protested, "Right, like my love life is any of _your_ business, Odango."

She blinked rapidly, then guffawed. "Oh my god, please tell me we really _aren't_ the first women—"

"Of course not," he sneered. "Now, if you're done drinking my wine, kindly get out before you spill it all over my hand-tufted carpet."

She stared at him, her brows drawn in confusion. "But we haven't even talked about the party yet!"

He laughed. "The party? Please. I'm more than capable of planning it on my own. You can just show up and take half the credit. We don't have to see each other, and you still get the glory. It's a win-win!"

"Yeah right," she said, sitting back down on the couch and placing her wine on a nearby table. "And let you plan the most boring old-man party in existence? A thrilling evening of dominoes and penuckle? Prune juice and Metamucil cocktails, perhaps?"

"Let me remind you that I'm two years younger than Motoki," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well maybe you should enjoy your youth for once and stop acting like you're already over the hill like you've been doing since you were a teenager," she said as she picked her notebook back up and started flipping through it. "Anyway, I've already done some brainstorming and I think—"

"Usagi," he interrupted, "get out."

She turned to look at him, still standing near the entrance of the living room, one hand pointed toward the front door.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not until we talk about the party like we promised."

"I am telling you I will take care of it."

She stood and strode toward him, drawing herself as tall as she could, even though she barely reached his shoulders.

"I will not break Reika's trust. And if anything, I can plan the party on my own and _you_ can just . . . reimburse me for the expenses."

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "You want me to write you a blank check for a half-eaten cake? I don't think so."

For the first time all evening, a look of true anger flashed across Usagi's eyes. "You really think that little of me? You think I'm out to scam you?"

"I have no reason to think otherwise. If you fail, everyone will blame me anyway for not babysitting you properly. In my estimation, the best way to not let Motoki down is to get you out of the picture as soon as possible."

"I'm not risking _my_ reputation because of your ego."

"You mean your precious reputation as a 'party girl,'" he said mockingly with air quotes, "as Reika put it?"

She stepped forward, causing him lean back into the wall as she invaded his personal space. "You don't have a clue, do you? This is my _job_."

"Oh really? Partying is your job?"

"Yes, Baka! I'm a _professional_ _party planner._ Something you would have learned a while ago if you'd bothered to show up to Reika's baby shower or Hikari's first birthday party—_both_ of which I planned to rave reviews."

"I had other obligations," he protested, but the excuse felt lame even though it was true—a charity gala kept him from the shower, and work obligations from the little girl's birthday. It was one of the reasons he had so readily agreed to Reika's request to help plan Motoki's birthday in the first place. "And so what? It's not like planning a party is difficult—especially not if _you_ can do it."

Her lip twisted in anger. "You're such an ass. All these years, and still just as arrogant as ever."

"And what about you?" he countered, leaning forward to take back his personal space, so close that he could smell the oh-so-Usagi scent of vanilla and strawberries wafting from her hair. "Still just as irresponsible as ever. You demand that I trust you, yet you strolled in here an hour late—"

"I was working!"

"—insulted me the moment Reika was out the door—" he plowed on, raising his voice to talk over her.

"Like you weren't waiting to do the same!"

"—in my own home—"

"As if you haven't insulted me in front of my own friends!"

"—refused to leave when I asked you to _multiple_ times—"

"I! Promised! Reika!" she screamed in his face, finally cutting him off. "You are so fucking frustrating!"

"The feeling's mutual!" he yelled back.

For a moment they stood silently toe to toe, both breathing hard from their shouting match, their gaping mouths mere inches apart, breaths deep and furious.

. . . _in, out, in, out_ . . .

He stared at her, so uncomfortably close to him, her cheeks pink from their fight, her eyes alive with anger, her chest rising and falling.

. . . _in, out, in, out_ . . .

"Sometimes," she said, "I could just . . ."

Looking at her like this, so incredibly stimulated from their fight, Mamoru's racing heart refused to slow.

". . . just . . ."

. . . _in, out, in, out_ . . .

Her breasts pressed into his chest with each breath she took, the look of fury in her eyes now mingled with something far more dangerous, something that sent a hard pulse through his body.

She swallowed, subconsciously licking her lips as she looked at his, one hand now trailing up his chest.

. . . _in, out, in, out_ . . .

_Fuck._

His breath stuttered a bit, and he knew she could now feel a certain part of him starting to press into her abdomen, too.

" . . . just what?" he asked in a shaky voice.

Her hand curled around the top of his shirtfront, her fisted fingers cool against the heat of his neck.

". . . do this."

She pulled him down, crashing her lips to his, and any restraint that he had vanished.

Usagi pulled back a fraction, her eyes locked on his. "Looks like I've finally found a way," she said as she dragged her lips across his with each word, "to get you to shut up."

"I really hate you," he said.

"I hate you more," she responded, then kissed him again.

He met her with equal passion as they battled for dominance in a lip-biting, tongue-sucking, mind-melting kiss.

Her hands were pulling at his neck as his grasped her waist and ass, forcing her ever closer. Gasping as she bit his lip hard enough to bring him out of his stupor, he pulled back for a breath, then redoubled his efforts, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth to punish her for her transgression.

Her responding moan reverberated through his entire body, feeding his need to dominate what had become their newest battleground. Neither allowed themselves to stop and think—this was all-out war and they were both determined to come out on top.

In an attempt to gain the upper hand, Mamoru deftly spun them to reverse their positions, forcing Usagi against the wall as he bracketed his arms on the wall above her head. She gasped in surprise, but the excitement in her eyes egged him on. He leaned into her, one leg between hers, and slowly pressed his now rock-hard erection against her. She groaned a little, letting her head fall back against the wall as she thrust her hips into his.

Mamoru couldn't think, couldn't believe what was happening right there in his living room. Never would he have expected to end up in a situation like this with Usagi—the one woman who drove him crazier than any other. Seeing her like this, feeling her pressed against him, knowing now that their bodies together created as much fire as their minds . . . it felt so wrong, yet so, so right . . .

Usagi seemed to be everywhere, filling and overwhelming his senses. Her touch, her taste, her smell . . . god, her incredible, intoxicating _smell_ . . . Every bit of her was driving him past all sense of reason. He didn't even think to resist, and slowing her down seemed futile.

He felt his shirt yanked from his pants and overeager hands trying desperately to undo the buttons. Through his haze he reached down to help but it was too late—with a loud rip his shirt was torn open, sending small buttons scattering.

"Hey . . ." he managed to get out before she launched herself on him, sending them crashing ungracefully to the floor. Mamoru's fall was thankfully cushioned by the carpet, though he could feel several buttons pressing into his back. Usagi's weight on top of him didn't help much.

Then she sat up, straddling his crotch, and all thoughts of buttons were banished. He watched, wide-eyed as she swept her dress up and over her head, tossing it to the side.

Looking at her, magnificent in her simple bra and panties, her deceptively large breasts heaving with her every breath, Mamoru's mouth went dry. A jolt ran through him as he gripped her ass and realized she was in a thong. And her boobs . . . somehow, her boobs—creamy and smooth and swelling over the top of her bra—were even better than he had imagined (because yes, fine, he had imagined them. Many times).

"I think," Usagi said, leaning forward to kiss him once again, "that you should take your pants off."

"Hrgghhh . . ." Mamoru replied.

He complied quickly . . . or rather, as quickly as he could with her squirming on top of him, doing incredibly distracting things with her tongue to his ear and neck.

The rest of their clothes didn't last much longer. First her thong (already soaked through), then his underwear (excruciatingly in the way), followed finally by her bra (Mamoru would remember her exquisite breasts until his last breath) were stripped off and tossed, lying forgotten wherever they landed.

They were moving at a breakneck pace, neither willing to slow down enough to question what was happening. She was on top, grinding along his erection, then he was on top, making her cry out with his clever fingers, then she gained control again, seizing his cock in her firm grip and torturing him with her hand, but then he was over her once more, sucking her nipples as she writhed beneath him.

Finally a battered condom appeared, pulled triumphantly from the bottom of Usagi's purse. He rolled it on and she pressed his shoulders back, making her preference known. Lying down, he let her take control . . . just this once.

They locked eyes, acknowledging what was about to happen as she gripped his cock, positioning him just right.

Her cheeks were flushed, swollen lips parted, eyes brighter than he'd ever seen, hair chaotically sticking out from her once-smooth braid.

He had never seen a more breathtaking sight.

And then, she sat down, taking him inside of her all at once.

It was absolutely glorious.

And, as they quickly found out to their mutual satisfaction, they fucked quite as furiously as they fought.

Usagi didn't wait long to start moving, bracing her hands on his chest as her hips pumped. He gripped her thighs tightly as she rode him, first faster, then more slowly as she sat up to take him in more fully. Her legs splayed, taking him deeper still. Her breaths grew more staccato, her face more flushed as she took her pleasure.

Mamoru grit his teeth as he struggled to keep control. She was getting close, but he was getting closer.

Making an executive decision, he pulled her to his chest, then flipped her onto her back and took over, slipping a finger to her clit to send her over the edge as he pumped into her, fucking her hard. He felt her orgasm with all of his senses as it reverberated through them both, clawing through the breath they shared. She was all around him, filling the air with her cries, overwhelming him, driving him harder, urging him deeper. He thrust wildly into her slick heat again and again and again, his pace becoming frantic as his orgasm uncoiled from deep within. Usagi tightened her legs around his hips as he shuddered, coming hard inside of her.

He collapsed bonelessly on top of her, gasping for air, his heartbeat erratic.

Gradually he came back to himself. Usagi was warm beneath him, looking at him with an unfathomable expression that he didn't have the brainpower to decipher at the moment. Rolling off of her, he flopped gracelessly onto his back, pulling the spent condom off as he did so.

Usagi sat up, then stood as quickly as she could on unsteady legs.

"Wow . . . haha, that was . . . um . . ."

Mamoru could hear her chattering nervously as she flitted around him, collecting her things.

"Well, um . . . I should really . . ."

Mamoru looked up to find her already pulling her dress on as she slipped into the entryway.

"Yeah, so . . . uh . . . bye!" he heard, followed by the sound of his door slamming shut.

He let his head fall back onto the ground with a hollow _thunk_.

He lay there for a long time, at least one button permanently embedded in his back, the dirty condom forgotten on the expensive hand-tufted carpet beside him, trying to get his brain to restart.

What the _fuck_ had just happened?

He pressed a hand to his eyes, willing an explanation to come to his still-fuzzy brain.

It was the wine. It _had_ to have been. He refused to consider any other possibility. Because him and _Usagi_? Hah!

Yep, definitely the wine.

_In vino veritas,_ an unwelcome voice whispered in his mind.

He groaned, rubbing his face as a small part of him acknowledged how spectacular it had been.

Fucking tannins.

Fucking Usagi.

_Fuck._

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Thank you to everyone for your continued support! I hope you enjoy this new journey.

And a HUGE thank you to sexpert FloraOne for helping me out and rooting me on! We've come a long way, baby.


	2. Chapter 2

Usagi Tsukino would be the first to admit that _reasonable _wasn't the first adjective most people (or anyone, really,) would use to describe her. And, while being reasonable was overrated, she was certainly not _unreasonable_.

At least . . . not _all_ the time.

Luckily, she had plenty of other things going for her. She was cheerful (duh), adorable (obviously), and personable AF (thank you very much)—adored by friends, family, and clients . . . pretty much everyone who met her, really. One might even go so far as to say she was universally loved.

Correction:_ Nearly_ universally loved. For there was one notable exception—arrogant, condescending, stick-up-his-ass Mamoru Chiba.

Mamoru Chiba, who had been picking fights, pointing out her flaws, and generally just being a dick since the moment they met.

Mamoru Chiba, who brought out her most non-reasonable-ish self and instantly made her angrier than any other entity in the known universe.

Mamoru Chiba, who she inexplicably had sex with two weeks ago.

Really, _really_ hot sex.

Seriously, what had she been thinking?

She hadn't been thinking at all, and that was the problem.

She hated to admit it, but she had been nervous for the meeting—to enter the enemy's lair. So, she had donned armor: her best boss-babe work dress, flawless makeup, and stilettos sharp enough to deflate any man's ego.

Then, something had gone awry. Somehow, wires got crossed inside her brain as they fought, allowing some heretofore undiscovered part of herself to take over in the heat of the moment, leading to kissing and touching and . . . everything else.

Yes, he was attractive. (Fine, extremely hot, the stupid man.) Anyone with working eyeballs would agree. But his personality seemed to be tailor made to repulse her.

Normally, she would ask her bff and roommate Minako, for advice. But this was not a normal situation. No, this was about as abnormal as a situation could get. The idea of admitting to anyone that she had willingly had (really, _really_ hot) sex with Mamoru Chiba . . . well, it just wasn't going to happen. Not if she could help it.

Not ever.

Nope.

So, Usagi was stuck figuring things out for herself. And, after several nights spent staring at her ceiling, trying not to think about the feel of Mamoru's hands, Mamoru's tongue, and Mamoru's . . . other appendages, the best she could come up with was nothing at all. Which is to say, pretend like it never happened and hope that Mamoru did the same.

Over the next two weeks she did as much work on the party as she could through email, messaging Reika (who cc'd Mamoru in her replies, the traitor,) for opinions and approval of themes and colors and food and drinks and favors and lighting and a million other little things.

But time was working against her, and, sooner than she would have liked, she found herself trapped alone with Mamoru in his car, studiously looking out of the window to ignore his presence as he drove them to her favorite shopping complex for party supplies. They had given each other the barest acknowledgement when she had entered the car, then rode in silence the entire way, save for the sound of the GPS's disembodied voice guiding them to their destination. His stupid(ly intoxicating) earthy scent permeated the car's interior, forcing her to breathe out of her mouth like a moron for most of the ride, but it was a small sacrifice to preserve her sanity.

So far, so okay.

Then, Mamoru parked.

"Look, Usagi, we should talk about—" was all Mamoru managed to get out before Usagi scrambled to open the car door, frantically pressing the unlock button a dozen times when the door failed to open on her first attempt. She spilled out into the cavernous underground parking area, pulling her purse with her and slamming the door behind her. She didn't bother to wait for Mamoru, instead striding purposefully toward the nearest elevator.

"Usagi!"

Her name echoed throughout the concrete structure but she didn't slow down. She could hear him jogging to catch up.

"_Usagi_," Mamoru repeated, catching her arm and spinning her to face him.

She felt her breath hitch as his eyes locked onto hers, the familiar look of frustration and anger causing a most unwelcome jolt within her as she flashed back to _that night_. She grimaced, ignoring the memory with all of her might. "What?"

He released her with a sigh. "Don't you think we should talk about what happened?"

"Hmmmmm," she said, tapping her lips with one finger, hoping to display a bravado she didn't feel. "Nope. Sure don't."

Mamoru frowned. "At least we should—"

"No, we shouldn't," she interrupted. "Look. It never happened, OK?"

"It never happened? Fine," Mamoru said, raising his hands in defeat. "I honestly don't know what I was expecting. I should have known better than to think you could act like an adult about this."

"It was a mistake, Baka. One that will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever—"

"Yes, I get it," Mamoru attempted to interject.

"—ever, ever, _ever_ happen again."

"Wait, I thought you said it didn't happen?" The familiar sarcastic smirk on Mamoru's face instantly sent Usagi's blood pressure skyrocketing.

"And?" she shot back, giving him the most withering stare she could muster. "What else do you want me to say?"

Mamoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. That there are no . . . hard feelings, I guess."

"Don't worry, Baka," she said, patting his arm. "I don't hate you any more than I already did. Not that that's even possible . . ."

"I'm being serious, Usagi."

"So am I! Like I said, let's just pretend it never happened. No harm, no foul."

Mamoru eyed her warily. "Are you sure?"

Usagi rolled her eyes. "You think too much, Baka," she told him, then resumed her path to the elevator, Mamoru following a respectful distance behind her.

Their ride up into the shopping complex was blissfully short and silent. Usagi kept her eyes trained on the floor indicator, studiously watching the numbers going up in order to avoid seeing Mamoru's reflection looming behind her in the elevator's shiny interior. They reached the fifth floor with a _ding_ and were on their way.

"What's our first stop?" Mamoru asked as he once again followed a step behind.

"Stationery."

"So . . . invitations."

"Invitations, RSVP cards, gift bag labels," she said, tapping a finger as she listed each off, "table placards, game cards—"

"Game cards?" he interrupted. "What kind of game cards? I don't remember approving that."

"'Motoki Minutiae,' the Motoki trivia contest I came up with. Reika and I texted about it," she said, then stopped to turn and look at him. "And I will remind you that your approval is not what's important. Honestly, you _do_ realize this party is for Motoki, not you, right?"

He crossed his arms. "Obviously, which is why I didn't say anything when you suggested karaoke, since Motoki inexplicably loves it."

"Karaoke? What's wrong with karaoke?"

"Nothing at all if you don't mind listening to a bunch of drunken idiots who think they can sing butchering the terrible songs they love."

"My god," she said, crinkling her nose, "do you ever lighten up?"

"Of course. I just prefer to maintain my dignity when I do so and leave the singing to the professionals."

"Oh please, don't try and say you've never done karaoke. That's just not possible."

"It _is_ because I _haven't._"

Blinking in shock, Usagi sputtered, "_Never_?!"

Mamoru sniffed. "Did I stutter?"

Usagi scrunched up her face as she looked him up and down, trying to figure out how someone so repellant could be contained in such an attractive package. Baffled, she shook her head. She was beginning to think that Mamoru was one big cosmic practical joke, designed specifically to torment her. "Whatever, mutant," she muttered as she resumed walking.

It was beyond her how someone as sweet and fun as Motoki could have a best friend like _Mamoru_. She tried to imagine them hanging out, Motoki downing beers as Mamoru went on and on about the best brand of microscope or his new designer wine opener or something equally mind-numbing and interesting only to men over the age of 50. Seriously,_ who hates karaoke!?_

She sighed in relief when they finally reached the stationery store, the clerk inside smiling and bowing when she spotted Usagi.

"Oh Usagi," the clerk said as she stepped out from behind the counter, "I'm glad you stopped by, we just got some new cardstock that I think you're going to love!"

"Ooooh, sounds great, Kimiko," Usagi said as Mamoru stood beside her. Kimiko eyed him with interest, clearly wondering who he was. "Mamoru, this is Kimiko. Kimiko, Mamoru—my uh," she paused, trying to think of an appropriate word, "my _associate_."

Ever the professional, Kimiko smiled and bowed at Mamoru, who gave a small bow of his own. "Welcome!" she told him. "You're in good hands with Usagi—we just love her. She's one of the most creative planners we work with!"

Mamoru nodded politely. "That I can believe."

"We always have a binder of her work on hand, if you'd like to see it."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him, Kimiko," Usagi said. "He's not my client—he's just signing the checks."

"Oh my," Kimiko tittered politely as Mamoru glared. "Usagi you are too much!"

Usagi turned to him. "I'm going to warn you now that this is not a quick process. Don't worry though, I'm sure you'll get your chance to _approve_ everything before handing over your credit card."

"And what do you want me to do in the meantime?" Mamoru asked. "Stay? Leave?"

"I could not care less. There's a couch over there if you want to chill. Otherwise I'm sure there's an old man store around if you need to buy a new cardigan or walker or something."

"Ha ha, very funny," he said and turned to leave.

"Maybe, if we're both lucky," Usagi called to him as he stalked out of the store, "you can find someone who will sell you a sense of humor!"

Kimiko tittered behind her hand. "Usagi, you are just too much!"

* * *

Usagi noted when Mamoru eventually slunk back into the store, holding a to-go cup of what was undoubtedly black coffee. She and Kimiko were still busy, so ignoring him was easier than usual. When she had finally finished and Kimiko was occupied writing out the orders, she made her way to the seating area where Mamoru was flipping through a book of samples. _Her_ samples, she realized as she got closer. He looked up as he heard her approach.

"All done," she told him.

He nodded and carefully put her sample book back in its original place with the others, then followed her back to the counter where Kimiko was waiting for payment. Kimiko presented Mamoru with the bill, but instead of the scrutiny Usagi expected, he merely gave it a quick glance before handing over his card.

"I'll email the proofs to you tomorrow, Usagi," Kimiko said as she returned Mamoru's card. "Your order should be ready within two weeks."

"Sounds perfect! Thanks, Kimiko!"

They left in a flurry of bows and polite salutations.

"What's next?" Mamoru asked as they stepped back into the mall's corridors.

Usagi thought for a moment. "Favors, I think."

Mamoru stretched out an arm. "Lead the way."

Again, Usagi was surprised. No pushback? No questioning? They walked in silence as Usagi mulled the change in his behavior.

Finally, she cracked. "So . . . no comment on the price of the stationery? No demanding to approve the proofs?"

Mamoru shrugged. "Everything seems to be well in hand."

She raised her eyebrows at that. "Finally seen the light, huh? Realized the truth?"

"I guess you could say that," he admitted. "I give credit where credit is due. Your portfolio was very well-done."

Usagi struggled to contain a blush at his compliment, weak though it was. Coming from him somehow gave it more weight.

"Kimiko is very professional," he continued. "She clearly knows what she's doing."

_Well_ then.

Swallowing back the urge to tell him somewhere else he could shove his credit card, Usagi decided instead to nod and then go back to ignoring his presence.

Thankfully, Mamoru's more laid-back demeanor continued, and the rest of their shopping excursion went by more-or-less smoothly, with only a few minor squabbles. She was actually starting to be glad he was along, since he paid for everything, carried all the heavy stuff, _and_ had a car to haul it all home in.

Passing by the mall's arcade on their way out, Usagi had a brainwave.

"Hey, do you think it's possible to customize one of the purikura machines at Crown for the party?"

Mamoru wearily looked at the lines of glittery, glamorous photo booth machines. "Customize? How so?"

"Like getting custom image borders and decorations and stuff," she said, shifting her bags around in her hands. "It would be so cute! I bet Ami could figure it out . . ."

"Yeah, I'd leave it to Ami. I don't know the first thing about purikura."

"Well ok, but like, you've _done _it . . . right?" Usagi's stare turned incredulous as Mamoru avoided her gaze. "Right?"

"It's . . . not something I've ever done, no."

"How?! How is that possible?!"

He shrugged bashfully. "I just haven't."

"My _god_ Baka! No karaoke, no purikura," she said, pointing an accusing finger in his face as bags swung from her hand. "Are you _sure _you're even Japanese?"

"It's not _that_ big of a deal," he said. "It's just not, y'know, something to do by yourself."

Usagi cocked her head. "Do by your . . ." She trailed off as his meaning sunk in. "Oh."

Karaoke, purikura—these were things that people did in groups, never alone. And sure, Mamoru had Motoki, but even as a teenager Motoki was always working. Did Mamoru have any other friends? Usagi had no idea, but he did seem to be a bit of a loner. She suddenly felt something akin to pity creeping into the ball of hatred reserved for Mamoru.

"Alright," she said, shifting all of her bags to one hand and so she could grab his arm with the other. "We're doing it."

"Wait, what?" Mamoru sputtered. "Doing what?"

"Purikura!" she announced, dragging him into the arcade through a crowd of tweens and teens mulling around the machines. "Here, take your pick!"

"Usagi, I'm not—"

"Do you want to be a princess? Goth? Gyaru?" she said, pointing to various booths. "Ooooh, this one has animal face filters!"

Mamoru sighed. "Usagi, I think we're a little old for this."

"Pffff," Usagi said, waving her hand at him. "You're _never_ too old for purikura. Now c'mon. Pick one!"

Mamoru looked at the booths skeptically.

"Please?" she wheedled, tugging his arm. "My treat!"

Eventually, Mamoru's shoulders sagged. "Fine," he said, admitting defeat.

"Yes, yes, yes, yessss!" she cheered, hopping up and down. "Which one? Pick! Pick! Pick!"

"That one, I guess," he said, pointing to the most sober looking of the lot.

Though it was a boring choice, it had the benefit of having no line. Not willing to give Mamoru time to back out, she once again grabbed his arm, dragged him to the photo booth, and shoved him inside. He took in the spaceship-like interior, blinking rapidly at the various angular panels of diffused lighting surrounding the digital photo console.

"Put your bags here," she said, dropping her own in a blackened area below the console. As soon as he complied, she yanked him back out to the starting screen near the entrance of the photo booth. He remained silent as she paid the fee and quickly selected the first few photo settings.

"Now the fun begins!" she declared. "We get to choose poses!"

Mamoru was beginning to lose his color. "Poses?" he weakly asked.

"We don't _have_ to do them," she clarified, "but it helps give ideas when you're in there."

"I see," he said, then half-heartedly clicked through a few options.

"Ooooh!" Usagi squealed, pointing to a sample set featuring two teen girls making silly poses together. "That set is super cute!"

"It's way too girly!" Mamoru protested.

"Fine, fine, spoil sport. But you have to choose something fast," she said, pointing to the timer on the display.

Mamoru huffed in frustration. "Fine, this one I guess," he said, choosing a set seemingly at random. "Not that it even matters, since I won't be doing any of them."

"Next," Usagi said as a new round of options appeared, "is the backgrounds!"

"There's more?" Mamoru groaned.

"Poor Baka," Usagi said, patting his arm as he scrolled through the options. "Oh look! They have a set of manga backgrounds!"

"I'm not a cartoon character, _Odango_."

Usagi rolled her eyes as he chose a set of monochromatic backgrounds for their shoot.

"Finally," he said as the screen instructed them to enter the photo booth. "Let's get this over with."

The fact that he reentered the photo booth with an expression grim enough to make even a firing squad feel guilty gave Usagi endless pleasure. This was going to be _So. Much. Fun._

And fun it was—at least for her. She imitated the cute poses and silly faces on the console screen for the first two shots, steadily getting nearer to Mamoru, who was doing little more than standing awkwardly to one side. Then she made her move, quickly poking him hard in the side, earning a flail and high-pitched yelp that made Usagi double over in laughter.

"C'mon, old man! Loosen up!" she managed after regaining her breath. "You look like you're posing for a passport photo!" Seeing that another photo was about to be taken, she stood directly in front of a pissed-looking Mamoru, held up her pigtails, and made the most ridiculous face she could muster. The lights flashed, and she relaxed, then poked him in the side again. "I know you don't know how to have fun, but you could at least try!"

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Usagi merely laughed. She poked him again, this time in the belly button, as the next picture was taken. It did not improve his mood.

"Stop it!" he said, smacking her hands away.

"At least _try_ to smile. You do know how, don't you? Like this!" she said, sticking her index fingers on either side of his mouth and forcing his lips into a demented grin as the lights flashed again.

But Mamoru had finally had enough of her abuse. In a swift motion, he picked her up around the waist and slung her over his shoulder. "I _said_ stop it!"

"Baka!" Usagi screeched, limbs flailing. "I'm in a skirt!"

"Nothing I haven't already seen," he snidely replied, earning him another screech and a smack on the butt. He laughed as he set her back down. "You can dish it, but you can't take it. Typical Odango."

"You suck," she said as she tugged her clothes back into place.

"And you like it," he retorted.

They glared at each other for a moment, then laughed. A final flash filled the booth along with a woman's voice, instructing them to move to the decorating station.

"Now what?" Mamoru asked as he collected all of the bags.

Usagi pulled the curtain aside for them both to step through. "Around back."

A group of teenage girls waiting to use the photo booth tittered and glanced at them as they exited. Usagi ignored them, but couldn't help noticing the pink spreading across Mamoru's cheeks.

"In here, Baka," she said, pointing to another curtained area at the back of the machine.

He sighed at the complicated looking screens and set down the bags.

Usagi swiftly clicked through the initial screens. When their photos finally appeared, she couldn't help but burst into laughter. Even Mamoru gave an amused snort to see them. There, right in front of their faces, was the perfect encapsulation of their relationship. Grumpy Mamoru and goofy Usagi, driving each other crazy.

She handed him one of the two touch-screen pens attached to the decorating console. "Now we get to choose six pictures."

"Oh," he said, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice, "we don't get all ten?"

"'Fraid not, Baka. So we have to make sure to choose the ones where I look the cutest."

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Well, we need this one, for sure," he said, selecting the photo of her inelegantly slung across his shoulder.

"No way!" she protested. That's a horrendous picture of me!"

"I know," he agreed with a smirk.

She leaned closer to get a better look. "What are my arms even doing?!"

"I don't know or care."

"You can see part of my underwear! We are _so_ not picking that."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not!"

Mamoru loomed over her. "Do I have to pick you up again?"

"You wouldn't dare!" she squawked.

He leaned back, then changed tactics. "Look, if you let me have this, I'll let you choose all the rest."

Usagi considered for a moment. Sure, she looked stupid in the photo, but he looked way worse in many of the others. She grinned, looking at the picture of him jumping and yelling after she'd poked him in the side the first time. "Alright," she said, selecting the picture. "It's a deal."

She quickly chose the rest, making sure to include ones of him looking most un-Mamoru-like, as well as the last photo of them laughing together. Photos chosen, she progressed them to the decorating phase.

"Are you kidding me?" Mamoru asked, overwhelmed by the amount of choices in decorations.

But Usagi, wasting no time, was already decorating one of the pictures, giving herself a cute bunny nose and ears and Mamoru demon horns. "Just choose anything! We only have two minutes to decorate all of these."

A few seconds later, she noticed that he had written _Odango_ across the top of the picture of her holding up her pigtails and making a ridiculous face. Smirking, she crossed it out, then wrote _Oh DANG tho!_ underneath.

But then, she watched in horror as an enormous handlebar mustache appeared across her face in another picture.

"Baka!" she yelled, but he just laughed.

"This is fun!" he said as he added a ridiculous looking unibrow to her face.

"Stoooop!" she protested, attempting to grab his pen. He was able to jerk it away in time, but she was undeterred, leaping at his arm and attempting to wrestle it away.

They scuffled, shouting and laughing as Mamoru held the pen above his head, then around his back, Usagi climbing and grabbing this way and that to get to it, unabashedly running her hands along his body and shoving into him with her hips and butt to try to knock him off kilter one way or another. Finally, Mamoru had enough and pinned her arms to her sides, holding her in a bear hug. He looked down at her and she up at him, their cheeks pink and breaths coming heavy from their play-fight.

Usagi's giggles quickly subsided. Held tightly in his arms, she no longer felt like laughing. She felt something very different instead.

With the embrace of his body against hers, her breasts pressing against his chest with each breath, Usagi was transported right back to that night in his living room. And, judging by the feel of his arousal against her belly, she wasn't the only one. She lifted her head, ran her nose along the curve of his neck, and deeply breathed in his scent.

Mamoru sharply inhaled, but he didn't let her go. "If I release you," he said in a low voice, "will you be a good girl?"

She looked into his eyes, seeing her desire reflected in them. Usagi licked her lips before answering. "No," she whispered.

And then, blissful madness overtook them once again as their lips clashed.

She didn't want to speak or think anymore. Who cared if she could barely stand the man, if they drove each other crazy? She just wanted to feel his hands on her body, his lips on hers.

He turned, pressing her against the machine as he wrapped one of her pigtails around his fist, his other hand grasping her thigh beneath her skirt. She groaned, feeling his hips grind into hers, then wrapped her arms around his neck and snaked one leg around his middle to pull him toward her more firmly.

She felt his hand move from the outside to the inside of her thigh, then his fingers pressed at her damp underwear, his mouth hot at her throat. She shivered, feeling goosebumps run along her inner thighs at his touch. It was so hot, so erotic, and something deep within her wanted him so, so badly.

Groaning, she pressed her palm against his erection, earning a moan against her throat.

"Hem hem . . ."

His hand unraveled from her hair to grasp her breast.

"Excuse me . . ."

She rubbed her palm along his cock—

"Excuse me!"

They stopped, looking in shock at a red-faced security guard who had pulled the curtain to the decorating station aside, several wide-eyed teenagers behind him.

Silently, Usagi slithered back to the ground and attempted to right her clothing.

"I think we're in trouble, Baka."

Wordlessly, Mamoru nodded.

* * *

"A lifetime ban."

After a harrowing trip to the mall's security office and an escort off premise, they were back in Mamoru's car and heading to her place so she could spontaneously combust in private.

"I can't believe this happened." Mamoru roughly ran a hand through his hair. He'd been looking pale ever since they'd been caught.

"A life. Time. _Ban._" Usagi repeated.

"I was always the good kid in school . . ."

"A lifetime ban from the mall!"

"Always followed the rules . . ."

But Usagi, who'd spent an impressive amount of her teenage years in detention, was running out of patience with Mamoru's histrionics.

"Who cares?! This doesn't even affect you!" she shouted. "What am I going to do about my stationery?! What about Kimiko?!"

But he didn't seem to hear her. "I've never been in trouble a day in my life!"

"Well you're making up for it now . . ."

He silently ran a shaky hand down his face.

"I still can't believe you demanded the pictures," he muttered.

"Well, I paid for them! They're mine!"

Mercifully, her building was in sight.

"Just pull over, Mamoru," she told him. "Let me get out."

He shook his head. "No. No, you will not get out. We need to talk about this. _All_ of this."

"Oh my god," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as he pulled up beside her building. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," he said, throwing the car in park.

Usagi waited for him to speak.

And waited.

And waited.

"Wow, great talk!" she said, reaching for the door handle, but his hand grasped her shoulder. She hesitated when she glimpsed the pleading expression on his face. Slumping back in the seat, she sighed. "Fine."

Mamoru swallowed. "Look," he started, "it's obvious that there's . . . _something_ going on between us."

Usagi looked out of the window. "Yeah . . ."

"I just . . . what if it happens again?"

She shrugged, picking at the window's lining. "If it happens, it happens."

"No," he said. "That's not good enough for me. I can't just leave it like that."

"Well what do you want me to say?" she said, turning to face him. "I can't predict the future."

"I don't know," he admitted. They sat in silence as they pondered their situation. "What if we had a . . . I don't know . . . an arrangement of some kind?"

Usagi skeptically furrowed her brows. "An arrangement?"

A splash of pink appeared across his pale face. "Like friends with benefits."

"Friends with benefits?" she scoffed. "More like _enemies_ with benefits."

"Look, I'm just trying to figure this out."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. An arrangement? With _Mamoru_? But it was tempting. She couldn't deny the inexplicable attraction between them, and a no-strings-attached arrangement did have a certain appeal.

"Alright," she said. "I'm not saying I agree, but what would this arrangement entail?"

"I don't really know, but I think there should be some ground rules."

"_If_ it happens again," she clarified.

He nodded. "_If_ it happens again."

"Honestly, only you need rules to have sex," she muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Usagi."

"Fine. Well, _if_ it happens again, _no one_ can know."

"Oh, absolutely," he agreed.

"I don't think my reputation could survive a blow like that." She shivered to think of her friends finding out that she was sleeping with _Baka_.

* * *

The Rules

1) No one can know

* * *

"What else?" she asked.

"Maybe some rules to make sure we don't feel too comfortable. Like, no spending the night and no exclusivity."

* * *

2) No spending the night

3) No exclusivity

* * *

"Hmm . . ." She tapped her chin as she thought. "Oh! Oh! I have one!" she said, sitting up in her seat. "You aren't allowed to fall in love with me."

He stared at her, then burst into laughter. "Don't worry, Odango. That won't be a problem. And that rule goes both ways. No falling in love with me, either."

* * *

4) No falling in love

* * *

She stuck her tongue out. "Can I go now?"

"Promise to consider it?"

Usagi turned back toward the door, knowing that it was likely the only thing she would be able to think about in the immediate future. She grabbed her purse as he unlocked the car. "Yeah, Baka, I promise."

* * *

7/10/20

Sorry for the wait! I have no good excuse.

A million thanks to Antigone2, FloraOne, and UglyGreenJacket for keeping me sane and entertained. Thank you to Antigone2 and FloraOne for the feedback and brainstorming. And thank you to Antigone2 for being the person I write for. I wouldn't do this without you!


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